


making up

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Talking, Trust, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Daisy and Coulson have makeup sex.





	making up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



"I can't believe the first time we do it, and it's make up sex."

"Can't say that's ever happened before," he muses. "They say make up sex is the best."

His hand is on her back, making small circles on her skin with his fingers, both of them laying on top of the bedsheets.

"Do you really believe what 'they say'?" she asks, turning over her shoulder slightly to look at him propped up on an elbow behind her.

"It was rough being mad at you. I hated it. The thought of a world without you in it didn't seem better to me. Sorry."

He's not sorry, and she sighs against the pillow, thinking about his particular view of her, and hugging the fluffiness against her contentedly when his warm palm moves between her shoulder blades.

"It's not that hard for me to be angry. I wish I wasn't that way. But, I hate being mad at you."

He doesn't reply immediately, but she can feel his hand stop for a moment, and she turns her body over so that she can look at his expression instead of guess at it.

"You should be more angry," she tells him angrily.

"What am I supposed to be angry about?" he asks, touching her shoulder. "Having lived another life? Having destroyed HYDRA? Having met you? This?"

"Your other life was stolen from you," she says as a reminder, her fingers tracing along the contours of his face. "And this one-"

"I'm not giving up," he assures her. "That's not what this is."

"Good," she tells him, sitting up against him and touching her lips to his, holding his face between her hands and working her way towards slow, demanding kisses.

She can't imagine that he'll be able to go again, although she has to admit that she was impressed that he lasted as long the first time.

He isn't rushing it, and that is not a familiar feeling. It's the kind of thing that should make her anxious. That her partner can't discover too much about her. All her insecurities and weakness.

The thing with Coulson, though, is she wants to be seen. He already told her that she means so much to him. Part of her always says it's a lie, and yet she can't make herself disbelieve him no matter how hard she has tried.

Not after everything they've been through together.

"Daisy."

He sighs her name back into her mouth, and she pulls back, running her fingers along his arms, past the bottom of his t-shirt and down to his hips.

"What?" she asks him, curling her thumbs against his hip bones, moving up to touch her fingers along his stomach, and the soft hair below his belly button.

"I just like the way it sounds," he answers, leaning forward to press his lips to her neck. "Soft. Strong."

It makes her think about how he's always said her name, and what that carried. And she's had so many of them.

"I like the way you say my name," she tells him, wrapping her fingers around his soft cock. "Even when you didn't get it right."

"Skye." He says it, smiling, catching the name in his chest as she strokes him.

"And Daisy," she adds, watching him stare into her eyes, as her hand moves between them, his mouth falling open.

"Daisy," he repeats after, longing in the word, leaning into her for a kiss, distracting her with his tongue and then she feels his hand close over her own, moving them again together.

"Quake."

He even wants that part of her, the most frightening one of all, and she never used her powers in bed before, even with someone like her. She's barely even used them on herself.

The little tremor she sends through him makes him groan, anchor himself to her, breathing onto her cheek as they both look down at him hardening again in her hand.

It gives her a strange sense of accomplishment, that her powers can do this, instead of tear the world apart. That he's so unafraid of her.

"Thank you for trusting me with that," he tells her, sounding way too sincere, and she wants to think it's corny, but she can't.

She even manages to push down a joke about him getting a handjob trading card from Quake. 

She doesn't want to ruin the moment.

He doesn't ask for more, although she's pretty sure by his expression he wouldn't turn it down, and she moves his prosthetic between them, pressing the fingers together with hers, making her aware of how wet she is.

His eyes are wide and he's watching her cautiously. He uses it like a tool, not something to touch her with. Not like it's a part of him.

But the point is made, and he carefully starts to slide fingers inside of her, curling to find her g-spot as she moves against him looking for more friction.

More and more until she's tossing his name out into the air, still kind of amazed that he knows exactly how to get her off.

Kissing him afterwards, kisses of gratitude, she arranges their bodies so she can lower herself onto him until they fit together, both of his hands touching her now.

She lets herself feel the vibrations between them, and plucks at them like she's playing an instrument for the first time, until his kisses turn needy and his hands move from her hips to circle her breasts and then his mouth follows, making his music with her in his own way.

They both come loudly, and  it's so alive, the air around them dizzy with spent energy, and this thing between them both heavy and light.  Laughter, and the brief pity for the neighbors they're sharing a wall with.

"Hey, Happy Valentine's Day," she tells him again, her voice sounding lighter this time.  Like she means it and it's not just a thing you say.

They can still hear the music return from the pool party still going outside.

"Another really great song," he tells her, lifting her hand to kiss her fingers. "Bet you're hungry, aren't you?"

"Starving," she admits. Every time she uses her powers. Without fail. But it's nice he noticed.

He lets go of her hand and lifts her, then rolls off the side of the bed, and looks around at the floor for his boxer briefs.

"Pizza or Chinese are probably your only options at this hour," he tells her as he tugs them on, which makes her sad for too many reasons.

"Have Pablo Jimenez place an order, and come back to bed."

He pauses and raises his eyebrows at her, but she can see the smile forming on his lips.

"Is that an order?"

"Guess I'm not mad at you anymore."

"Guess not."

He looks a little smug as he leans across her on the bed to get to his phone from the nightstand.  



End file.
